As of 2015, Mexico had 119,938,473 inhabitants. 52.4% of those were women, and about 18.5% of the female population was under 20 years old (rough estimate).
In the same year, there were 2,353,596 births and 18.2% of those who gave birth were teenage girls. 49% of the population claimed not to have used any method of birth control during their first intercourse, and 32,752 cases of STDs were registered with 85% of clinic appointments being requested by women.
These numbers help us reach a pretty obvious conclusion: in Mexico, we are doing something wrong with how we approach sex.
Many assert that this dilemma has a direct relationship with a country’s level of income and development. There is logic in this reasoning, as statistics tell us that around 90% of teenage births and nearly 95% of new HIV infections take place in developing countries. However, this cannot be the sole reason why Mexico stands as the country with the highest teen pregnancy rate amongst member countries of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD).
I believe that there is an important contributing factor that, somehow, tends to go unnoticed. Because, honestly, how do we expect young people to know about sex if we are reluctant to talk to them about it?
According to Mexican psychologist Juan Pablo Arredondo, nearly 80% of Mexican parents avoid talking about sex with their children. And, if they do talk about it, over 50% of them won’t handle it well, imposing their religious beliefs over the facts. And, often, schools are no better. Perhaps the best way to illustrate my argument is with my personal experience…
Like many other middle-class Mexicans, most of my early academic life took place in private schools which, for the most part, tend to be religious. In these schools, the sole mention of sex was taboo, both by the student body and our instructors.
Fast-forward a couple of years and I finally attended a secular school which provided a some sexual education. This is still very much a rarity in Mexico, as the Secretariat of Public Education (SEP) doesn’t list sex-ed as a compulsory course in academic programs.
However, instead of learning about different methods of birth control, or about consent, I was shown pictures of STD symptoms and a very graphic video of an abortion procedure. Rather than learning about safe and healthy sex, I was taught to be terrified of the very act of intercourse and the potential consequences.
School was not where I learnt about sex. School is not where many young Mexicans learn about sex.
So, if our families and schools are neither available nor reliable sources, where are Mexicans learning about sex? The answer itself is problematic.
Many men can believe that what they see in porn is a reality – that they are going to find a hairless bombshell who will give her all for his satisfaction (and will, in doing so, magically achieve her own). On the contrary, women are told that sex is an act of love and, even if it is not the most pleasurable of acts, the feelings involved are what matters. If you mix these two beliefs, you end up with troubling scenarios like the one where unprotected sex is seen as ‘most pleasurable’ and the best way to keep your partner content, or the fetishization of lesbian relationships.
Of course, I am not saying that these are the de facto rules of how Mexicans think of sex. Instead, I am pointing out the possible consequences of the reluctance of those in charge of our education system to teach young people about sex.
Blaming our growing socio-economic inequality is easier than realizing that we are making a terrible mistake by avoiding talking openly about such a natural and fundamental topic. In doing so, we are hindering the chances of many young women out there.